A gaping mouth, death's hands pry
A mournful countenance an eternal cry
All my belief's die in thee
Humbled entrenched by deep humility
I know nothing but sweet melancholy
As I understand with sympathy
That whether its life after death
Or no life to be
There is something with more breadth
Than my weak self, than me…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem